


Regina et Pugnator

by americanhoney913



Series: Inktober 2019 [15]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roman Empire, Day 16 + 17, F/F, Inktober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 14:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21076349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanhoney913/pseuds/americanhoney913
Summary: InktoberDay 16 + 17: Wild/OrnamentEmperor Charlotte attends Becky's gladiator match against criminal brawler, Ronda. She hopes her champion can win this.





	Regina et Pugnator

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like doing a second part for the Roman Empire AU. I hope you guys like the second part. This is the longest thing I've written for Inktober so far!
> 
> I am completely ignoring history when it comes to woman emperors and female gladiators, which were both rarities.
> 
> Title: Queen and Fighter

The sun beats down upon the arena and Charlotte sighs, rolling her neck from side to side. She waves a finger in the direction of the muscular bodyguard slave and he steps forward. She remembers purchasing him in the  _ Graecostadium _ , the slave market behind the forum; he was the best looking one from the slaves from Spain. Charlotte, unlike her predecessors, didn’t agree with slavery but would not do anything to threaten her reign. So she took him and had him trained to be a bodyguard. She leans over and whispers something in his ear and he nods. He's no Becky, but he does his job and the redhead’s busy. After a moment, a caramel-colored slave, one who looks like they could be from Judea or Egypt, brings her a goblet of rich wine. She waves her hand again, the slave disappears, and the man takes up his post at the entrance to the emperor’s box.

She sighs and leans back in her chair, swings one leg lazily over the other stone arm. The battle going on below bores her-- a gladiator in a helmet with a trident, a _retiarius_, playing with the scrawny old man like he's prey-- and she just wants to go back to her palace. At least there’s shade and better food and a pool that she can always find Becky swimming on hot days. She’s the only one besides Charlotte who’s allowed in her private pool. All hard muscle and soft skin pale despite the sun, hair creating little cover over her breasts, water dripping from her nipples as she stands in the water, beckoning Charlotte with her eyes, and--

The crowd roaring breaks her from her lusty thoughts of the redhead to look down into the arena. The gladiator pulls off their helmet and throws it to one side, shaking out her hair. 

When the stronger gladiator turns to her, bronze armor gleaming and hair dyed a Tyrian purple, she lifts her trident and bows. Charlotte’s surprised by the color, as it’s reserved for the emperor and the senators lucky enough to gain her favor, and a rare nobleman or two. It’s extremely expensive for anyone who wasn’t her and this slave had wasted it all on her hair. She looks beautiful, but Charlotte’s brow furrow at just the thought of this slave wearing  _ her _ color.

“Andrade, ask the  _ lanista _ where this slave is from,” Charlotte demands. “Send Zelina and have her report to me. If she’s able to buy this much Tyrian purple, she must not be who she says she is.”

Andrade looks over the rail, his tan skin shimmering with sweat from the hot sun. Alexa’s covering her with shade, but he’s been standing directly in the sunlight to protect the entrance to the Emperor’s box. He chuckles. “That’s no slave, mistress,” he tells her. “That’s the noblewoman Sasha of the house Varnado.”

Charlotte scratches at her arm and shakes her head. “Why would a noblewoman ever want to fight in a battle to the death? Wouldn’t she rather be at home?”

“She is independent and no man has been able to claim her. She fights because it’s fun and she’s been trained by some of the soldiers who live next to her villa.”

The blonde smiles. “Good for her. At least someone’s having fun.”

She smiles at Sasha as she holds onto the shoulder of an older man as he kneels in front of her. Charlotte recognizes him as a thief and a conman who likes to wander the richer parts of town, pretending he's one of them. He was announced and his crimes told to the crowd at the beginning of the match, but she doesn't care enough to remember. V-something. She doesn’t know his name, but Sasha must have had him apprehended and put herself in the match against him.

The noblewoman holds the sword to his throat as he sways, obviously exhausted. On the emperor's orders, the criminals sentenced to the ring get only bread and water for the week before their final match. Since he's old, this probably hasn't helped him keep any strength.

Charlotte stands and the crowd holds its breath, waiting for her signal. She holds out a closed fist and smiles. She straightens her thumb and tilts it up, permitting Sasha to kill the bastard. Charlotte watches with glee as his blood runs onto the sand, creating a little river as his head rolls to a stop a few paces away. Some of the ruby liquid laps at Sasha’s bare feet and she wrinkles her nose. Charlotte waves her arm and the noblewoman bows. She drops the body on the ground and stomps out of the arena, leaving bloody footprints until there’s only dried blood left on her feet.

Sasha crosses the threshold between the gladiator’s quarters and Charlotte watches as Becky steps out into the ring. She’s wearing bronze knuckles with spikes, ones the emperor’s ordered for her. They were stronger than those worn by a normal gladiator, with rivets and Charlotte’s stamp on the fist. When she hit someone, it could stamp the emperor’s seal onto her opponent’s face if she hit hard enough. It’s Becky’s favorite piece in her armory.

She salutes to the emperor's box, fist to her chest and then extended out. She adds to it by kissing her middle and index finger and raising it to the sky. The blonde rolls her eyes and reminds herself to have Becky “punished” for doing something so public… as if everyone doesn’t already know that she favor’s the redheaded  _ cestus _ . Andrade chuckles behind her and she knows that he knows exactly what she’s thinking.

“Who is she fighting?” Charlotte asks.

“Ronda,” he tells her. “She was caught last week while trying to set her Master’s shop on fire. The blacksmith was not happy. So he sent her to be, well, put on trial if you will. ”

“We’ll see if she’s worthy to be killed by the Emperor’s chosen, or if she lives to fight another day.” Charlotte turns back to the two fighters. Becky’s wearing a Tyrian purple-lined loincloth and bandeau, her only weapons are her armor-covered fists and her brilliant mind. Ronda wears brown cloth instead, signifying her status as a criminal.

The horn is blown to signal the beginning of the match and Charlotte leans forward to watch.

The battle is brutal. Becky and Ronda are evenly matched in strength, but Becky’s faster, quicker on her feet. She turns into a wild animal as soon as the horn blows. Sometimes Charlotte's surprised she doesn't see frothing at the mouth or the crazy look in her eyes. Ronda might hit hard, but Becky’s always one step ahead. The criminal’s wearing her own set of cheap iron knuckle dusters. There’s a loud crack as Becky brings her own fists, covered in the best bronze money can buy, down on Ronda’s left hand as she’s defending herself from a blow to the head. Her knuckle duster shatters and falls to the sand at the impact. Becky smirks and completes her hit, the other woman flying through the air. The crowd cheers as Ronda stands up, cradling her jaw in her hand, blood dripping from her chin.

Charlotte’s blood pounds in both her heart and her clit as she watches the redhead toy with her prey. Break a bone here, leave a cut there. The blonde knows that now she’s just playing, knowing Charlotte gets aroused by watching her fight.

It goes on for a little longer, Becky gaining some cuts and bruises once Ronda finds a sword left from a previous battle. She uses it to her advantage, cutting at beautiful soft skin, using every inch of that sword against someone who specializes in using their fists. It’s wild, brutal, and Charlotte pushes against the stone of her chair but Andrade coughs and the blonde remembers her place. She could do that when her father was alive and all eyes were on him, not her. But she can’t show Becky too much favoritism or the crowd will jeer and think the fight unfair.

“Do ya really t’ink that sword’s gonna keep me back?” Becky snarls, shouts as she runs at Ronda. The criminal woman raises her sword and Charlotte's heart leaps in her throat. Becky raises one fist, leading with that one as she charges. Ronda leads with her sword and Charlotte’s worried her beloved slave, her beloved heart, is going to die. Stabbed through by a cheater’s sword, left for dead on the sandy arena floor with the rest of the carcasses.

Both scream and, at the last moment, Becky drops to her knees, using her momentum to slide across the sand, under Ronda’s sword, and bring her fist up into the other woman’s stomach. The criminal drops to the floor, wheezing, with a few broken bones if Charlotte had to guess.

Becky stands, wobbles on her feet for a moment before she stands and raises her bloody bronze fists in the air. A deafening cheer goes up through the crowd and the redhead looks to Charlotte. She holds the criminal by her hair, gesturing to her throat with the other hand.

Just like with the noblewoman Sasha, Charlotte rises and holds out a closed fist. This time, however, she tilts her thumb down. Becky will not kill this one and Ronda earns another day as a fighter. Maybe, if the need arises, the other woman can even join the slave combat units in her army.

Charlotte waits until the crowd thins out before she exits the emperor’s personal box. Andrade falls into step behind her, three paces behind and on her left, the opposite of Becky’s place. Andrade and Becky have worked together in the past and, with him being left-handed and her right-handed, it has worked to save the emperor’s life on many occasions. He follows as she makes her way down to the gladiator’s quarters below the main arena in the Colosseum.

The  _ lanista _ greets her with a low bow. He’s a tall man with broad shoulders and a beard that’s going grey. She remembers playing underfoot on the  _ ludus _ while her brother trained to be a general in the army, using the different gladiator styles to better himself. Charlotte remembers Hunter helping her learn to hold a wooden training sword. She learned to defend herself, but still, her father insisted on bodyguards. So Charlotte chose Andrade and, later, Becky.

“‘Llo, Charlie,” Becky’s accent breaks her out of her thoughts. She looks at the redhead, who’s leaning against one of the pillars, a smirk on her lips. There’s a few drops of blood still coming out of her nose, some swiped along her cheek, and coming from her split lip. “Ready to get outta here? I got a hankering for some warm food and an even warmer queen.”

Charlotte taps Becky’s cheek much more gently than she would have had Becky not been injured. She hears Hunter snicker behind them, Andrade choking back his own laughter. “We’ve got to take care of those wounds first. And you’re off duty for the next week to recover.” Charlotte gestures to a few deep cuts. One on her thigh and another on her ribcage. Not deep enough to cut to the bone, but deep enough to still be seeping blood, no matter how sluggish.

“Fine. As long as I get the sexy healer this time. Not that asshole who thinks she’s hot shit.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes and helps Becky hobble to the emperor’s personal carriage. Andrade helps the redhead inside the carriage and then Charlotte. He jumps into the seat upfront with the driver and they make their way over the cobblestone streets.

* * *

Charlotte dismisses Andrade at the door to her personal chambers and he leaves her there with a nod. She tells him to get some food from the kitchens before he's free of his duties for the night. Sonya and Mandy, each with a sword glinting at their hip, take up their posts at the side of her door. They help her bring Becky into the room and put her on one of the couches. Charlotte tells Mandy to bring her some hot water, salves, and bandages.

When Mandy returns, Charlotte tells her to wait outside with Sonya unless she calls her in again. Mandy doubles as a healer, which is useful when Becky loves to get herself in trouble.

Becky’s dabbing at her nose with a wet cloth while she tries to lick her lips until the blood disappears, which isn’t helping at all since her split lip keeps bleeding.

“Stop that,” Charlotte admonishes as she slaps Becky’s hand away. She gently takes the redhead’s face in her hand, tilting it to the side so she can gently sop up the blood and wipe it off of her cheek. Becky sighs and leans her head against Charlotte’s shoulder when the blonde pulls away. She presses Becky down with a soft touch and the  _ cestus _ sinks down into the pillows. The blonde wipes at the blood weeping from the cut on her thigh.

“It doesn’t need stitches, which is good,” Charlotte says as she rubs the salve into the cut. Becky hisses and grabs her arm, but doesn’t dig her nails in. Charlotte coos and soothes her as she wraps the cut on her thigh and then does the same to the one on her rib cage.

“Come on,” Charlotte says once she’s done taking care of the  _ cestus _ . “You’re staying with me tonight.” 

Becky wiggles her eyebrows as she follows Charlotte through the many rooms of her private suite. The blonde brings her into the  _ cubicula _ and removes her ornamental diadem. Becky, although she’s injured, still demands she be able to perform her duties as the emperor’s personal slave. Charlotte indulges her.

Becky starts by unwrapping the Tyrian purple sash from the crisp white robe wrapped around Charlotte’s body. She lays the extravagant fabric over a wooden stand next to them, before removing the rest of the emperor’s outfit. Charlotte takes a deep breath and runs her hands through her hair. Becky goes to grab a cloth and the hot water, but Charlotte shakes her head.

“Not tonight.”

After changing into their underthings, Becky moves to the door to leave for the adjacent room, the personal slave’s room. Charlotte slips into bed and holds out her hand.

“Please?” she whispers and Beck can do nothing but relent. She crawls into bed and curls up next to Charlotte, scratching her nose. Becky says nothing blonde turns away to stare at the ceiling. It’s decorated with beautiful and ornamental frescos, but it’s not what Charlotte wants to be looking at so she turns and finds herself nose to nose with Becky. A single tear slips down her cheek.

“Charlie?” Becky whispers into the darkness, the moonlight making her look like a goddess with a hair of fire. Even more beautiful than Athena or Aphrodite.

“I thought you were going to die,” she responds. “When you ran at Ronda, when that sword was pointed right at your heart. I thought you were going to die.” Another tear slips out.

“Ronda was all top-heavy and leaning into her sword. I knew I could do that move.” Becky rests her head on Charlotte’s shoulder. “If I didn’t know I could do that move, I wouldn’t have risked it.” She sighs. “That’s the reason I dragged the match on for so long once she picked it up. I had to spot her weak points. Like leaning into her sword too much.”

“Well, I’m still mad at you, but I’m less mad because that move was  _ really _ hot.”

Becky snorts. “Knew ya’d like it.”

“Shut up or I’ll whip you again.” Charlotte traces her fingers across Becky’s back, tapping the scars she knows are there. By either her hand when Becky needed to be disciplined, or at the hands of the  _ lanista _ before Hunter took over. Always because of her big mouth and her stubbornness and her fighting spirit getting her in trouble.

“Don’ tempt me wit a good time, Charlie,” Becky mumbles through a yawn.

“You’re so stupid, Becks.” Charlotte kisses her forehead and pulls the covers over both of them, a smile on her face as Becky snuggles closer.

Hopefully, Becky won’t have to be back in that ring any time soon, but her girl loves fighting. Even wounds won’t keep her down for long.

**Author's Note:**

> Graecostadium- the slave market  
lanista- the person in charge of the gladiators  
cestus- a brawling-type gladiator  
ludus- gladiators training ground  
cubicula - bedroom
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this fic and don't feel cheated that this combines two days instead of having a fic for each word. It was fun to write. I've gotten asked to write a second part to 'Help Me' and that might happen if I find a word from the Inktober list.
> 
> Tomorrow: Misfit


End file.
